


middle of the night

by cometic



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sneaking Out, Trans Male Character, intentional undercase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cometic/pseuds/cometic
Summary: wilbur helps tommy through his dysphoria.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot/TommyInnit
Comments: 18
Kudos: 162





	middle of the night

the rocks pitter-patter on wilbur’s window. after running out of them, tommy just stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight back and forth. 

a few seconds later, he hears the window slide open. disheveled, wilbur peeks his head through and looks around before his eyes settle on tommy. 

“darling?” 

tommy melts, just a little. it’s nice to hear the sound of wilbur’s voice. “do you have a ladder?” he asks.

crickets fill the silence that wilbur fails to. if he squints, tommy thinks he can see wilbur’s disbelief through the pitch-black. wilbur shakes his head. “i’ll ask questions later. and you’re going in through the front door.” 

with little protest, tommy complies. it’s the least he can do, given he’s shown up in his yard and woken wilbur up in the middle of the night. (or at least _disturbed_ , since his boyfriend has a shit sleeping schedule.)

he traces his path out of the backyard and back onto the front lawn. wilbur beats him to the door, opening it while tommy’s stood in the middle of the driveway. 

“fancy seeing you here,” wilbur says in mock surprise, lips curling when tommy shoots him a glare. tommy steps in. 

after he kicks his shoes off, he crumples.

wilbur reacts almost instantly. “hey, hey,” he says quietly, stepping forward and holding tommy’s face. “what’s wrong?”

_what’s wrong?_ his entire fucking body. it’s all wrong—curves and dips in places that should be flat, and a voice too-squeaky without tommy straining it. he gets so stupidly emotional about it. he should be able to look wilbur in the eyes, but he can’t. 

because wilbur _has_ to see through the charade tommy puts on everyday, pretending he’s a dude when he’s just playing dress-up. wilbur probably lied to him about being bi to avoid hurting his feelings. _he’s straight_. he has to be and it hurts. 

tommy remembers that he has to answer wilbur when he nudges tommy lightly. he tries not to let his darker feelings slip through. “it’s my dysphoria. you said i could visit you if it ever got bad.” 

realization dawns on wilbur’s face. “oh,” he says softly. then, his eyes move downwards. “i noticed you’re still wearing your binder. how long—?”

“thirteen,” tommy rushes out. “hours, i mean.”

“jesus, toms.” wilbur runs a hand through his hair, then grabs tommy’s hand. “we’re not continuing this until you take it off.” 

he leads tommy upstairs until they’ve hit the bathroom. “i wouldn’t mind you changing anywhere, but i figured…”

“no, you’re right,” tommy says. “i’m not really in the ‘tits out’ kinda mood tonight,” and he forces out a laugh to follow. 

tommy doesn’t bother turning the light on when he enters. he just changes quickly, holding his binder close to his chest, and takes a deep breath. he can finally fucking breathe. 

at the cost of being more aware of them than before. 

when he exits the bathroom and heads down the hall to wilbur’s bedroom, he tries to reason with himself. _you’re a big man. the best man, actually. and wilbur loves you as a bisexual guy who is attracted to men._ he tries to verbalize it out loud.

“i am your favorite man,” he declares after he enters the room. 

wilbur looks up from where he’s rearranged the pillows. he smiles. “is that so?” he finishes up and holds out his hand. 

tommy chucks the binder at him, and wilbur accordingly tucks it in his nightstand. after that’s done, tommy continues. “well it better be! there is no other good man. they all _suck_ except for me.” 

rolling his eyes, wilbur meets tommy at the entrance and surges up to kiss him. _oh,_ tommy thinks while his eyes flutter shut. it surprises him just how nice it is to kiss wilbur every time he does it. when wilbur pulls back, the same feelings are written across his face. 

“at the risk of stroking your ego, i agree,” wilbur says, the words lacking bite. he kisses tommy once, twice, before he retreats further into the room. “shut the door behind you, yeah? we’ll settle in and then we can talk dysphoria.” 

dysphoria. right. tommy almost forgot about that, but now it’s creeping in again full-force. attempting to brush it off, tommy shuts the door, turns off the light, and slides underneath the covers. he sits there for a minute, awkwardly. 

“can i be the big spoon?” he says, sudden. 

from where he’s fully laying down, wilbur looks up at him. “of course,” he answers immediately. he tacks on, “good thing you’re only seven centimeters shorter than me, or else it’d be real awkward.”

tommy doesn’t waste any time in adjusting so that he can hold wilbur in his arms. “five centimeters,” he corrects, mumbling. 

“that’s right,” wilbur says, pressing a kiss to tommy’s nose. “how could i forget.” 

he’s about to make an indignant remark, but then he notices something. “wil,” he starts, and looks at the other’s face to confirm, “you’re still wearing your glasses.” 

reaching a hand up, wilbur blindly feels for them. the movement stops when he finds his glasses. “oh shit, yeah.” he pulls them off and stretches overhead tommy to place them on the nightstand. “good catch.”

“yeah.” 

tommy goes quiet after that. it’s getting harder to ignore. he just wants to reach into that same nightstand and pull his binder back on. all he wants is to be _flat_. that’s it. 

worried, wilbur scoots closer to tommy. “what’s my beautiful boy thinking about, hm?” he asks, a hint of mirth in his tone. 

the worst part about knowing what wilbur’s doing is that it works. tommy’s heart does _not_ stutter. “i’m thinking about wearing my binder for another thirteen hours,” he answers, half-serious. 

“i’d advise you not to do that,” wilbur says gently. “i quite enjoy it when you’re able to breathe, you know.”

“ha! so do i, but—“ he takes a deep breath— “but it’s the only time i feel like a real guy. my body feels right. _i_ feel right.”

wilbur hums, burying his face in the crook of tommy’s neck. “but you’re never _wrong_ , tommy,” he says quietly. the sound is right next to tommy’s ear. “you’re a real guy all of the time. you’re my lovely boyfriend, your parent’s _son_ , fucking- techno’s little brother. even if you’re trans, it doesn’t change that.”

“even if i’m trans,” tommy repeats. he closes his eyes shut and allows himself to feel tired. in the dark, he feels for wilbur’s hair. he presses a kiss to it, wrapped up in how much he loves this man. 

“sleepy already?” wilbur teases. he draws back for a minute so he can kiss tommy again. nodding, tommy kisses back lazily. wilbur’s mouth has always felt like it was made for tommy, to kiss, to roll between his lips, and tug between his teeth. eventually, he draws back and lays his head on the pillow. 

he yawns. “night, wilby. love you.”

“goodnight, big man.” wilbur leans into tommy. “i love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> they're boyfriends <3<3 also commenters: ily


End file.
